Where Immortals Once Walked

“But since yesterday morning, my link with Lord Water Spirit has been severed. No matter how I try to call Lord Water Spirit, I no longer receive any response! So, my deepest apologies, but there really is nothing that I can do.” The old man returned the sticks to He Lingchuan. “Besides, these two sticks were made as silent lots. There must be a reason for that. Lord Water Spirit often said that certain heavenly secrets can only be shown, not spoken.”

He Lingchuan shook the two sticks in his hand. “That old turtle went out of its way to make me two new lots, and it didn’t ask anything in return?”

“Lord Water Spirit said, everything is up to fate.”

Everyone let out a long breath of relief. He Yue patted his big brother on the shoulder and said, “Don’t lose heart. If the spirit put it that way, then even though you drew the most inauspicious lot, it might not actually turn out to be a bad thing.”

“No, no. Lord Water Spirit’s divinations are uncannily accurate. They turn out to be true eight out of ten times.” Old Liu, once the interpreter of those lots, was being painfully honest. “The worst lot rarely leaves the container. In the past ten years, only five people have ever drawn it, and every single one of them met a dire end! Aside from these two in your hands, the first two to draw it both died. One of them was beheaded by bandits, while another drowned in a flood. They say both suffered terribly before the end.”

The shrine fell silent as a grave.

“It gives me the worst lot, not once but twice, and then refuses to explain it!” Flames danced in He Lingchuan’s eyes. “What the hell is it trying to say?”

He shot Old Liu a cold smile. “Maybe that old turtle isn’t dead at all. Could it be hiding somewhere, making fools of us?”

Old Liu said dryly, “Uh, that I wouldn’t know. I’m just the shrinekeeper, really just a caretaker of the shrine. I don’t even know what’s going on in the lake.” He was only human, not a fish. How could he know what had happened to the Water Spirit?

“However, Lord Water Spirit did once say that those who draw the worst lot should be cautious, prepare early, and perhaps they might still find a narrow chance at survival.”

He Lingchuan only found it laughable. “If its divinations are so accurate, how come it never foresaw its own end?”

Suddenly, a voice came from outside, “What end are you talking about?”

Everyone turned to look at who it was. He Chunhua had arrived, flanked by two guards.

He Yue asked in surprise, “Father, why have you come out too?” With the brigands prowling outside and danger at every turn, why did their whole family suddenly seem like they were on a mere outing?

“The eastern side of the village was clearly the liveliest spot, so how could I not come see what was going on for myself?” He had stepped out and asked a patrol guard, only to learn that all his family was gathered here. Hence, he found himself coming here as well. “So, what’s going on?”

“Big Brother drew lots twice, and both times it was the worst lot.” He Yue’s tongue was quick; in just a few words, he laid everything out. “None of us had such rotten luck. The lot-reader said that these were set aside by the Water Spirit especially for Big Brother.”

“The worst lot? Let me see.”

He Chunhua took the two sticks, examined them with a furrowed brow, then suddenly burst out laughing. “Are these even worth taking seriously?”

Old Liu hurriedly interjected, “My lord, you may not be aware...”

He Chunhua waved a hand, unconcerned. “You don’t understand. My son was raised under the eye of the Grand Shaman Zhaomandu[1]. Long ago, the grand shaman foretold that Chuan’er would be blessed with both fortune and destiny, that his ambitions would soar to the heavens, and that he was born a man of immense good fortune. These worst lots are nonsense, utter nonsense!”

He Chunhua then fixed his gaze on He Lingchuan and said, “Tell me, do you put more stock in the words of Grand Shaman Zhaomandu, or in some wild turtle monster’s tricks?”

For some reason, He Lingchuan felt his father’s eyes were unusually sharp.

“The grand shaman.” My ass.

“That’s my good son!” He Chunhua clapped him on the shoulder. “Besides, the Water Spirit Tablet has already been shattered. That turtle monster is dead. What meaning could its lots still hold?”

At that, Madame Ying looked down at the lot in her hand. “Ah, so my best lot doesn’t count either?”

He Chunhua took her stick, glanced at it, then laughed. “You hardly need to draw a lot. Anyone can see your fortune will be all blossoms and splendor.”

“Oh, my dear!” Madame Ying beamed like a flower in full bloom. “Would you like to draw one yourself, just to try?”

The words slipped out naturally, but the moment she said them, she realized it was a mistake.

He Chunhua did not take offense, but his refusal was firm. “No need! They don’t count anyway.”

At that point, Mao Tao turned to Old Liu. “By the way, you said there were five worst lots in total. If I was listening correctly, then four are accounted for. What about the last one?”

He Lingchuan had drawn two, and two others had gone to men who were already dead.

“That one went to an out-of-towner,” Old Liu explained, scratching the back of his head. “The day after he drew it, he left. I’ve no idea what became of him. A few months back, two strangers came—an old man and a young one. They said they wanted to see where the He family’s forebears had first risen in rebellion. The young one came to the Water Spirit Shrine to draw a lot. The old man stopped him and said it was useless. His exact words were something like, ‘Your fate is not bound by the will of Heaven.’ But the boy sneaked back the next day with plenty of offerings, tossed them all into the lake, and begged for a lot. I told him the spirit had sealed the container, but he wouldn’t believe it. No matter how he shook, no stick came out. Finally, he muttered to himself, ‘So it truly isn’t set by heaven,’ looking terribly disappointed as he left. Who would’ve thought that just as I was putting the jar back on its shelf, a single red lot fell out? I assumed it had been meant for him, and set it aside.”

He Lingchuan immediately asked, “And where is that lot now?” The old man had said before that every worst lot had to be taken out and kept separately.

“Oh, over here.” Old Liu hurried off to a low shed on the west side and rummaged for a while.

Before long, he came back holding a red stick.

Everyone crowded close. On it was written a line of tiny characters:

Endless yellow sands, ambition thwarted, life—

Mao Tao scowled and voiced what they were all thinking, “Life what? Where’s the rest?”

What the hell? Had part of the lot been burned away?

Indeed, the rest was gone.

Old Liu gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Ah, it fell into the firewood last time I was burning kindling, and it nearly got burned up entirely.”

“What were the missing words? Do you remember?”

“N-no, I don’t.” Old Liu looked sheepish. “There are one or two hundred sticks in all. How could I remember every single one?”

He Lingchuan suddenly asked, “That young visitor, what was his surname?”

“Um...” Old Liu thought for a long while. “It’s been months. But I remember it wasn’t one I’d ever seen before.”

“Could it have been Nian?”

“Yes, yes, that’s it!” Old Liu clapped his thigh. “Nian! Like the nian in nian gao (rice cakes)!”

Seeing her husband’s face darken, Madame Ying quickly pressed a few coins into the old shrinekeeper’s hand. “That’s enough for today. Go on, rest now.”

He Lingchuan silently walked out of the Water Spirit Shrine, then suddenly drove his fist into a small tree.

Crack!

The tree snapped clean in two.

He Chunhua followed close behind, speaking solemnly to his eldest son. “Steady yourself, Chuan’er. Sometimes events seem to line up by chance, but it’s only a coincidence.”

He Lingchuan said nothing, but his expression was grim.

There was no doubt that the one who had drawn that last worst lot was Nian Songyu.

So he had been here, too!

Endless yellow sands can only refer to the Panlong Desert.

Ambition thwarted should be referring to the Nian father and son’s rebellious hearts.

As for the missing words, He Lingchuan recalled the “god” that had descended upon Nian Songyu. It’s definitely something along the lines of life cut short.

It seemed that, at least for this specific divination, the old turtle monster had been unquestionably right.

1. Note that I’ve translated it this way as it’s likely that Zhaomandu was a transliteration of the shaman’s name, though it’s possible that they actually do bear the name Zhao Mandu. However, with the name in the raws being 照满都, it’s unlikely that is the case as 照 simply isn’t a common surname. ☜